Friends Who Are Boys
by ladyoftheknightley
Summary: "Hermione?" "Yes?" "Does Neville fancy you?" In the Hopsital Wing after the Battle at the Ministry, Ron and Hermione have a chat about boyfriends and boy friends, and Hermione has a realisation. Missing moment from OotP.


_Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns HP and, let's face it, can probably do magic. I can't._

_A/N: For Fireworks Show at Camp Potter. I couldn't not Romione. (Yes, I just verbed Romione. Deal.)_

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"Anyway," said Ginny, "I'd better be going. I promised Luna we'd go down to the lake for a bit before lunch. She wants to try talking to the Giant Squid again..." Hermione's lips twitched, but to her credit, Ron thought, she didn't actually say anything.

"I'll be off too, then," Neville said. "I might see if I can find Harry..." There was a slightly awkward silence—no one wanted to be the one to mention Sirius—which Neville broke by pulling a book out of his bag. "I almost forgot!" he said. "I got that book you wanted, Hermione."

"Oh, thanks Neville," she said, taking it off him and immediately flicking through the first few pages. Neville blushed slightly.

"No worries," he said, shuffling awkwardly. "Anyway—bye!"

"Bye Nev!" said Ron.

"See you later," Hermione added. Ginny gave them a wave, and then skipped out of the Hospital Wing after him. "I see that ankle's nicely fixed then," Hermione said to Ron, who was propped up on several pillows in the bed next to her.

"Huh?" Ron had been frowning after Neville's retreating back, and clearly hadn't heard Hermione.

"Ginny's ankle. Not giving her any trouble now," she said impatiently.

"Oh—oh, yes, Madam Pompfrey fixed it up nicely, she did. It's not giving her any trouble now," Ron agreed. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hermione, can I ask you something?" he added suddenly, in a far less distracted tone.

Her heart gave a sudden lurch.

_No, it didn't_, she told herself firmly. _That defies all biological possibility. It's just the potions you're taking_. Out loud, she said, "Of course."

"Does Neville...does he fancy you?" Was it her imagination, or had the tips of Ron's ears gone slightly red? "I mean, he gets you all these books and he was all...fluttery when he gave it to you, and—"

"Fluttery?" said Hermione, laughing slightly.

"You know," said Ron, the tips of his ears turning red for sure this time, "when you're with the person you like—I mean, _like_ like, you know—and you get that sort of...'Ooh!' feeling—stop laughing! Stop it!"

"Sorry," Hermione said, still giggling. "I do know what you mean," she added in a more serious tone, though the giggle at the end rather ruined that. "But I don't think Neville was fluttery. And Ginny brings me books from the library too, and _she_ doesn't have a crush on me!"

"Yeah, but Ginny's your friend," Ron said, as though it was obvious.

"So's Neville!" countered Hermione. "And _don't _say that men and women can't be just friends. That's ridiculous—look at me and Harry!"

"You and Harry," Ron said, nodding. "Yes. Absolutely." The tips of his ears had turned red again, and Hermione found herself fidgeting with the bedclothes. It was, of course, complete coincidence that she'd chosen herself and _Harry_ as the example there. "I mean—I know guys and girls can just be friends. It just felt like Neville...y'know, wanted more than that."

"Oh he does," Hermione said. "But not with me. With Ginny." Ron spluttered. "Calm down! He just has a bit of a crush on her, that's all. Nothing will happen—she has a boyfriend, remember?"

"Don't remind me," muttered Ron. "Michael Corner, right?"

"Er—right," Hermione said. Ron either didn't notice or chose not to comment on her slight hesitation, and she didn't elaborate.

"They met at the Yule Ball, didn't they?" Ron continued. Hermione nodded. "But wait—I thought she went with Neville to the Ball?"

"She did," Hermione said patiently. "But just as friends. And anyway, just because you go to the Ball with someone, doesn't mean you're dating." She looked over at him, willing him to understand...

"'Course it doesn't," Ron agreed. "I mean, like Ginny and Neville. Or Harry and Pavarti."

"Right," said Hermione, swallowing. Her throat had suddenly gotten very dry.

"So how is Viktor these days?" he asked, addressing the elephant in the room in a manner that was probably meant to be casual.

"I'm not really sure," Hermione said. "We write to each other occasionally, but I told him during the Easter holidays that he shouldn't expect to hear from me for a while because of my exams. I was too busy revising to write, and whilst they're over now..."

"...you're stuck in the Hospital Wing," Ron said.

"Exactly," said Hermione. Ron chuckled. "What's so funny?"

"I'm just thinking," he said, "it's a good job that History of Magic exam was our last one, isn't it? I can't _imagine_ the state you'd be in if you failed something because you missed an exam because you were in here!"

"_Anyone_ would be in a state!" Hermione sniffed. "And anyway, you wouldn't fail. They'd grant you extenuating circumstances."

"Extenuating what-now?"

"Extenuating circumstances," Hermione said patiently. "If you can't take one of the OWL exams for a genuine reason—like if you're really ill with, I don't know, a stomach bug on the day of the exam, or something horrible happens, like your Grandma dies—the Ministry grant you extenuating circumstances. I asked Professor McGonagall. Sometimes you have to do a resit exam later in the summer, and sometimes they just talk to your teacher and see what kind of grades you've been achieving in your classes and homework all year, and give you an average of that. But it hardly ever happens."

"Huh," said Ron, clearly thinking about something. "So if when we do NEWTs, I tell them—"

"No," said Hermione, shaking her head immediately. "They check that you really _are_ ill, or your Grandma really has died or whatever. You can't just say that your cat's got lost or you stubbed your toe or whatever. There has to be a genuine reason, like..." She cast around for an example.

"Getting attacked by Death Eaters?" Ron suggested. Hermione's lips twitched.

"Yes, that would probably fly with the Ministry," she said. "At least, now it would..." Pretty soon, both of them were laughing at the absurdity of the idea of being granted a free pass on their OWL exams because of Lord Voldemort and his supporters. "We shouldn't laugh," she said seriously, once their giggles had run their course. "It's serious."

"Deadly serious," agreed Ron, with a smirk.

"No, Ron, really. It _is _deadly serious. At the Ministry—you could have _died_," she said. "S-Sirius did. That could just as easily have been you."

Ron sobered up immediately. "Or _you_," he said. "Harry told me about what happened to you, with Dolohov. It sounds like you had a close call..." Once again, he clearly meant to sound casual, but failed.

"I know," whispered Hermione. "If he'd not been silenced..."

"Don't," Ron said sharply. Hermione flinched at his loud tone, then winced. Sudden movements still made her whole body hurt, though Madam Pomfrey had promised that this feeling would fade as the weeks went on. "Sorry," he said, looking mortified.

"It's okay," Hermione said. "It's just because the painkillers have worn off. It'll soon be time for another round of potions. Yay..." Ron snorted. Though they were both grateful for the effects of the myriad potions Madam Pomfrey gave them to help their Healing, it didn't mean they were grateful for their taste.

"Here she comes now," he said, nodding over to the office, which she had just exited, wheeling a silver trolley covered in different vials of liquids. They watched as she first went over to the Hospital Wing's only other patient—a third year Ravenclaw with Dragon Pox—and began handing over his medication.

"Hey, Hermione?" Ron asked, as she watched the boy swallow his second potion with a grimace. She turned to him.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you didn't die," he said, looking at her steadily.

"I'm glad you didn't die, too," she replied, and he smiled at her quickly, before turning away again to look at the third year as though he was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

Hermione leant back against her pillows, feeling herself let go of the last of the just-friends thoughts she'd been desperately clinging on to for a while now. She had imagined that finally admitting that to herself would be hard, but it felt like the easiest thing she'd ever done.

More than that, she mused, as she watched Madam Pompfrey start doling out potions to a rather disgruntled looking Ron, it felt _right_.

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